FREYA’S POV
My heels clicked sharp on the hardwood as I stormed down the stairs, my blood boiling, my hands fisting until my nails bit my palms, drawing blood. The hallway’s torch light flickered, casting my shadow wild, my blonde hair swinging loose, strands sticking to my sweat-damp neck. Selenea’s act—her wide eyes, her trembling voice, claiming no memory of Ryker—burned in my skull, each word a slap I hadn’t seen coming. I’d planned it perfectly: Ryker dragging her back to Tenebrous, Lukas free from her and he being mine again. But she’d played me, her lies were smoother than I’d ever guessed, and now she stayed, rooted here, Lukas’s arm around her, his eyes soft for her alone.
My boots hit the bottom step, the rug muffling my stride, and I paced the living room, my chest heaving, m
